FIRST BLOOD TO THE SMUGGLERS
At half an hour after midnight, the _Glenbow_ rounded Saltern Head
and drawing in close to the land dropped her anchor about ten
minutes' row from Saltern Quay. The wind had dropped, and the sea
under the shelter of the land was quite calm. The town was hidden
from sight in the darkness, which was more than ordinarily intense
owing to the clouded sky and the lack of a moon. Ashore, the light
on the quay blinked its warning, and two or three other late lights
showed where the town lay asleep.
A raucous blast of the ship's siren woke echoes between the
surrounding hills, but did not seemingly awake the people who lay
sleeping between them. Dare, leaning eagerly over the rail with his
gaze fixed shorewards, thought ruefully that such a sleepy town was
not likely to yield much in the shape of adventure. He had not much
time to dwell on that, however. Soon Ben, who had been collecting
the luggage and seeing it safely stowed in the boat, which had just
been lowered, came up, and they both went to the ship's ladder. A
few minutes later they were being rowed ashore.
As the boat shot between the quays jutting out from the harbour, Dare
searched the blackness in vain for the gleam of a friendly light.
"Doesn't look as if father has come to meet us," he said to Ben.
That worthy merely grunted.
The boat was rowed towards some steps at the foot of the quay on the
town side, and they disembarked without further speech. Their
luggage was taken out of the boat and placed on the quay by the
boat's crew, which then went swinging off into the darkness, leaving
Ben and Dare to make their way through the town as best they could.
"Here's a to-do," then grumbled Ben. "No one to meet us and it pitch
dark and we not knowin' the road or the house."
"The best thing we can do is to follow the boat's crew," suggested
Dare. "It's likely the post office is not far from the Customs."
They were, in fact, housed in the same building. Ben agreed, and
picking their way as well as they could, they set off to follow the
crew, with only the sound of the others' heavy tread to guide them.
They managed well enough until they came to a turning, and by that
time the crew were so far ahead that neither Ben nor Dare could
determine which way they had taken. In this somewhat absurd
predicament they hesitated, Ben making use of the occasion as an
opportunity to air his vocabulary. They were about to go straight
ahead, when they saw a light approaching from the turning, and
decided to accost whoever carried it. As the bearer of the light
approached, they saw that it was a woman. Ben, taking the
initiative, went to speak to her.
"Beggin' your pardon, ma'am----" he began.
"I'm sure it's the first time you ever done it, Ben Saleby," came the
tart interpolation.
"Why, it's Martha!" exclaimed Dare joyfully. Ben grunted.
Martha, the family servant for twenty years, and housekeeper since
the death of Mrs. Stanley ten years before, had in the course of her
duties married Ben, to that individual's never-ending surprise and
astonishment. They got along very well together, however, having
both the same interests--that is, the welfare of the Stanleys, and
although Martha, by virtue of her superior position and her longer
length of service, was inclined to be tart with Ben now and then, Ben
did not seem to mind it. He had been well disciplined on the
quarterdeck, and it is to be supposed that he found something
reminiscent of his sailing days in Martha's summary treatment of him
at times.
"Yes, it's me, Mr. Derek," answered Martha. Dare's real name was
Derek, but a tendency during early childhood to dare his
acquaintances to dare him to attempt incredible exploits had earned
him his nickname, which had in time ousted his real name from use by
all except Martha, who was exceedingly rigid as regards the
impropriety of misnaming those she served.
"And what might you be doing, Ben Saleby, talking to a female like
this?"
"I was goin' to ask the way. We've lost our bearings," explained
Ben. Martha sniffed.
"And how might you be, Martha?" Ben asked appeasingly.
"Well enough," said Martha shortly.
Ben nudged Dare's arm and said sotto voce, "In a temper."
"What's that?" demanded Martha, who was sharp of hearing.
"I was saying I hoped the cap'n was well and hearty," stated Ben
mendaciously.
"Well, you can keep on hoping," returned Martha. "Your father is
kept to the house, Mr. Derek," she explained. "He hurt his leg the
other day, and can't use it very well yet. That's why he's not come
to meet you."
Dare was concerned to hear this and said so.
"It's nothing serious," Martha hastened to assure him, and turned on
Ben.
"Now then, Ben Saleby, pick up the baggage and don't keep us waiting
here all night. This way, Mr. Derek," she directed, and the trio
took the turning leading to the Customs House, where Captain Stanley
was lodged.
They spoke little on the way. Martha was moody and out of sorts, and
at that hour none of them had much relish for gossip. As they halted
before a high-roofed building with lights showing below and above,
Martha spoke, however.
"I might as well tell you both," she said brusquely, "that the
captain got his bad leg from the smugglers."
Ben and Dare took this surprising information in different ways.
Dare was speechless, but Ben, ever ready to fill such a breach,
voiced several full-blooded oaths. Martha turned on him like a
virago.
"Less of that, Ben Saleby, or I'll lay this lantern about your head.
Yes, Mr. Derek, it's so. They set upon him two days ago when he was
gallivanting goodness knows where. He's got a arm broke, too," she
admitted.
Dare found speech at this. He knew Martha would make light of the
affair, and he felt certain that his father was much worse than she
had revealed. He turned on her impatiently, demanding to be admitted
to the house and shown to his father's room; and Martha, lifting the
lantern high, straightway led him up the stairs to the captain's
apartments.
Captain Stanley was in bed, but awake, to receive them. To Dare's
relief there was little sign of serious illness to be seen in his
father's face.
"What's this about being beaten up by the smugglers?" Dare demanded
affectionately when the first few embarrassed moments of their
greeting were over.
As he lay in bed, all that could be seen of the captain was his head,
but that was clear enough evidence of his character and former
profession. The head was round, and the hair on it close cut; the
face full and red, the eyes blue and twinkling, the mouth firm but
able to relax in mellow moments, the chin square and dogged. A man
whom you would like and trust on sight, one in whom you would readily
confide, and to whom you would not hesitate to give responsibility.
He smiled at Dare as the latter lightly asked his question so as to
hide his real feelings.
"So Martha told you," said the captain. "Yes, Dare, first blood to
the smugglers, my boy."
"Hurt much?" asked Dare shyly. He had never witnessed his father
helpless before.
"No, no," the captain was quick to say. "My arm's broken below the
elbow, and my ankle's sprained a bit, but I'll be as well as ever in
two weeks. In fact, I'm going to get up to-morrow, but I won't be
able to move about, confound it. But sit down, sit down. And you
there, Ben--come in."
Ben had been hanging about outside the door, and at the order he came
rolling into the bedroom. He stopped at the foot of the bed and
raised his hand in salute.
"Howdy-do, cap'n? Bad news, cap'n. In dock for repairs, I hears."
The captain nodded, still retaining his smile.
"Leakin' bad, cap'n?" queried Ben.
"Oh no," said the captain, and repeated the information he had given
Dare concerning the extent of his injuries.
"It might be worse," said Ben, and added truculently, "I'd like to
have a go at them fellers."
"And I too!" put in Dare, indignant at the treatment to which his
father had been subjected. "How did it happen?"
"That's a long story," said the captain, "but I know you won't go to
bed till you hear it, so make yourselves comfortable. Ben, sit down
and take it easy while Martha makes you both something hot."
They obeyed, and Captain Stanley wrinkled his forehead in the effort
of concentration as he prepared to accede to their wishes.
"In the first place, this is a much more difficult business than I
expected," he began.
"Ah!" said Ben, leaning forward with eager interest.
"Yes. These chaps here are a crafty lot, and hard--hard as nails.
It's my belief they won't stop at anything short of murder to prevent
anyone spoiling their trade. And close! I've never met such
closeness. I've been here nearly three weeks now, and I haven't
found out a fact that's of real importance, though I've discovered a
few things that bear upon the case and reveal the extent of the
difficulty we're up against.
"But I'd better begin at the beginning. The day after I landed I
took over the office here. The tide-waiter was helpful but not very
enthusiastic about my coming. In fact, the majority of the people
seem to resent it. The merchants are the only men who are downright
glad to see me. There's some resentment naturally at Johnson's being
fired. He's lived here a long time and has his home here still. The
truth of it is, of course, the majority of the people benefit by the
smuggling, for it's not only liquor and tobacco that's smuggled, but
commodities like sugar, luxuries (though in a smaller way) such as
perfume, and much more extensive than that, the smuggling of gear.
But the tobacco and liquor trade is the heaviest.
"This attitude of the townspeople--the place, by the way, is little
more than a village--made things difficult for me from the start.
Naturally I'd expected to extract a good deal of information from the
people, but they won't talk. As for my predecessor in office, I
couldn't very well, in the nature of things, expect to learn much
from him. He turned over the office to me and left me to work out my
own salvation.
"The news of my coming travelled fast, of course, and no doubt the
smugglers knew it before anyone else. I received a letter hinting at
bribery before I'd been here a week, and when I didn't answer it I
received another, threatening me and advising me to go back to St.
John's, as Saltern wasn't a healthy place for busybodies. I didn't
take any notice, of course. I've been threatened before. I kept on
with my work.
"I hired a boat and sailed up and down the coast by day and night. I
took long walks on the cliff-head when there was a chance of being
unobserved. And last of all, I kept my ears well open, but for all I
saw or discovered I might have saved myself the trouble.
Nevertheless, I knew that all I had to do was to keep at it.
Something was bound to turn up. Someone was sure to talk. Or the
smugglers were sure to make a slip or to relax their vigilance some
time or other.
"The smugglers and the villagers probably realized this as much as I
did, and in the first ten days I was here I became the most unpopular
man in the district. They'd all found out by that time that I wasn't
to be bribed or frightened off by threatening letters. So they
changed their tactics and commenced an offensive. I found myself
being deliberately hindered in my work. My boat's gear was stolen
and when afterwards I kept the new gear locked up, they sunk the boat
at her moorings. The windows of the house here were broken late one
night--pure hooliganism, that--and the man who was helping me work
the boat gave up the job. And I found I couldn't get another, though
I offered big money. Those who would have liked to take the money
were afraid. The gang here really dominates the district. They're
not outlaws, but they're very nearly becoming so. Of course, there's
no police force. A sleepy fat old constable keeps the peace, but
he's practically useless except to settle domestic quarrels and to
fine people for keeping dogs without a licence.
"I had to deal with the hooliganism alone, but all I could do was to
lodge a complaint and guard against similar trouble in future. For a
while I was successful. Then I was caught, not off my guard, but in
a defenceless position, without a weapon except a heavy
walking-stick, for I don't believe in carrying a revolver."
A knock at the door interrupted the narrative at this point, and
Martha came in bearing three steaming bowls of chocolate and a plate
of sandwiches. She refused to leave the room until the chocolate had
been drunk and the sandwiches eaten.
When Martha, satisfied, finally left the room the captain took up the
thread of his story.
"By one thing and another I had my attention turned from the coast to
what is known as the Spaleen road. This is a cross-country road
linking Saltern to Spaleen, and running beyond Saltern to Shagtown,
Tarnish, etc., farther round the Bay. It seemed to me there was a
great deal of traffic on this road between Spaleen and Saltern. I
knew, of course, that the people used it a great deal for the purpose
of farming small patches of land in the district, and to cart
fire-wood from the hills. But that did not seem to me to account for
the large amount of traffic.
"I made up my mind I'd keep a closer watch on it. One day I took up
a stand on a small hill overlooking the road three miles from the
town, and with the aid of a pair of binoculars spied on all who
passed. And I had a piece of luck; for I'd not been there an hour
when I saw two horse-drawn carts meet and stop. The men driving them
engaged in conversation, and I actually saw a bottle which I dare say
contained whiskey change hands, and also a package which looked
suspiciously like a box of tobacco.
"Of course, that was a very slight exchange, and I might easily have
been mistaken in the articles passed, but I didn't think so then, and
later something occurred which proved, or at least made me feel
certain, that I was right.
"I began to puzzle out where the traffic had its head. Spaleen, I
thought, was too far away to be considered practicable, seeing that
the smugglers could have their cache so much nearer Saltern and the
centre of Saltern Bay. I decided to examine a road map before I made
any further investigations, and returned to town.
"That same day I located a road map in the office and discovered what
I might have expected, that the Spaleen road was a devious one, and
at two points it approached to within a few miles of the coast
between Spaleen and Saltern.
"One of the points was near Spaleen, the other in the neighbourhood
of Saltern. I fixed upon the latter as being relative to my
suspicions. I suspected the smugglers of having a cache somewhere on
the coast near Saltern and that the back-door of this cache gave upon
the Spaleen road, which could be made to serve admirably the needs of
distribution, as there was a great deal of traffic on it daily and
movement of any kind would not be liable to excite the curiosity and
suspicion of those who, either by nature of their profession or their
sympathies, were antipathetic to the trade.
"The thing I had to do was to prove my suspicion well founded. But
the trouble was, how? It's harder to escape observation on a country
road than in a city street. I couldn't very well go in the daytime
without my every movement being watched. And it was little use
looking for a track to the coast on a dark night--and the nights have
been particularly dark lately. The only thing to do was to
compromise, and set out at dawn, when there were few people stirring.
And that's what I did.
"Well, to cut a long story short, I was about four miles from the
town and passing a wood when a gang sprang up from nowhere, and
jumping on me from behind had me at their mercy before I could strike
a blow or even turn upon them.
"They didn't trouble to tie me up but hit out with their boots, and
one of them lay about him with a heavy stick. I thought they were
going to finish me, but just before I lost my senses I heard one of
them shout: 'Don't kill him; Payter said only make him wish he was
dead!'"
Both Dare and Ben broke out into indignant speech at healing this,
then allowed the captain to finish.
"They dumped me in a bush a gunshot from the road. That's where I
was when I came to. I would have been pretty badly situated, for I
couldn't walk, if a passing countryman hadn't heard my shouts for
help and taken me to Saltern in his cart.
"I sent for the doctor, feeling pretty bad. Apart from my arm, and a
twisted ankle, a great number of bruises and two cuts on the head, I
was in excellent condition, he told me ironically, and sent me to
bed. And here I am."
Dare and Ben, who had hitherto restrained their feelings, now broke
into excited comment.
"Of all the dirty, underhand, mean ways of fighting!" exclaimed Dare.
"Did you know any of them, cap'n?" asked Ben, who had for a few
minutes relapsed into the language of the fo'c'sle without rebuke.
"No," replied the captain, "I didn't recognize their voices and I
didn't see their faces. As I've said, they came on me from behind.
And when I did glimpse their faces I was too dazed and stunned to see
them clearly. All I discovered was that Payter didn't want me
killed, though who Payter is I don't know. I've never heard the name
mentioned here."
"He might be the leader of the gang," suggested Dare.
"I've thought so myself," said his father.
"There was no doubtin' but that 'twas the smugglers who bate you,
cap'n?" asked Ben.
"Who else would it be?" returned the captain.
"Aye, who?" agreed Ben.
Further discussion that night, or rather that morning, was then
resolutely forbidden by Captain Stanley.
"It's time you both turned in," he declared. "We'll talk again later
in the day. Now, away with you!"
Obeying orders, they both left the room and retired for a much-needed
rest.